Routines
by strange isle
Summary: It's alarming how even the most exceptional occurrences can become familiar, given time. The BLU spy's been having some awful luck. Warning for rape. Spy/Spy.


From the sleeping quarters to the mess hall, from the hall to the shower, from the shower back to the quarters, I could feel my movements becoming predictable again and abruptly doubled back to the stairs I had just passed. As I climbed, I chided myself for slipping into routine once more. Routines were dangerous things that suited obvious men, not men such as myself. Forgetting that fact in wartime had proven to be an embarrassing mistake, both professionally and— for further reasons.

I slipped down the hallway, past empty storage rooms to an alcove facing away from RED base and any wakeful snipers. The large window here had not seen use in some time, but I managed to finesse it open without a sound. My reward was the cool, welcome breeze hitting my face as I leaned out the sill. Insects droned as the last vestiges of daylight bled slowly away to night. Lighting up and taking a deep drag, I allowed myself to relax for the first time that evening.

"Very good, Spy, you've picked the perfect spot." I started, swearing under my breath as I felt the sharp edge of a knife come to rest between my shoulder blades. The pressure of two thighs against the back of my own further stilled me. I had no time to regain my composure before the cigarette was plucked from my mouth. A moment later, a puff of warm smoke drifted by my ear.

"I do love yours. HQ only issues the shit kind," he continued in the French of my hometown. Unfailingly, the rough, almost Spanish trill of his words sent shocks of memories through me— the steady blip of a radio transmission, listening intently to made up stories, filthy jokes hidden in encrypted beeps, grinning and clacking out my own replies as I cultivated my natural talent for code— a narrow backstreet, salt air and humidity so thick I could almost taste the tang of spattered blood, a cut throat seeping red through grooves of cobblestones on the day I determined that taking a life held no revulsion for me—

It infuriated me, the power the spy's voice had. "Then barter when the supply trucks come in like I do," I hissed, then followed his lead. "Be self sufficient." Hiding myself behind another language was inviting, but I hoped that my French would affect him the same way.

"Why would I do that when you lay everything in front of me so temptingly?" The spy exhaled another puff. "But look, I forget myself. I'm behaving rudely for a guest." He held the cigarette against my mouth to offer me a draw and I complied, angry at his fingers on my lips, but mindful of the knife. He enjoyed my cigarette a minute longer before tossing it. I tracked the lit end downward until it bounced against the concrete outside, a tiny speck. Too far a drop to make safely in one go and no obvious handholds nearby.

A first floor window shone dimly, but I balked at the idea of calling for help if the bastard's guard lowered. Oh yes, excusez-moi, Sniper— I was fairly sure it was Sniper's window— I was just being molested by the RED spy. Ha ha, he sure got me good. Yes, it seems to be a common occurrence these days. Thank goodness you saved me! No, that would not do, not ever. What a marvelous follow up that would be to our last regrettable conversation. Fucking HELL. Here I was, being toyed with yet again in my own base with no explanation, no sign he'd soon tire of this, my shame as strong an escape deterrent as the blade. I understood sowing unrest among the enemy as much as anyone in my vocation, but this was too much, too much, too personal—

A slow caress on my thigh interrupted my thoughts. I steeled myself as I felt the spy's free hand snake up past the windowsill to work at my belt, which he loosened efficiently. Several more tugs and my trousers and shorts were in a heap at my ankles. I heard a low, pleased murmur behind me, and the distinctive sound of a zipper shot a tremor of apprehension through my body. My face was flushed. I could feel each throb of my heart acutely— shit, shit, keep your composure, don't let him notice—

"Dear me, this is the sign of a desperate man." I said, stalling. "Could it be there's no one at the RED base who'll let you touch them? Did you scare all your teammates off by being the creepy fuck that you are?"

"Nothing that entertaining, I'm sorry to say! I just have a preference for discretion, and what better than a proud, tight-lipped spy who I can be assured won't breathe a word of this to either team." He said it with a fondness that made my skin crawl. "You must see what I mean."

"Discretion. I think that only means you don't want them to know how bad a lay you are."

"Haha. To be fair, I haven't exactly been concerned with reciprocation. Now don't distract me." The spy grazed the knife down the length of my back, then slid it back up underneath what remained of my clothing. I was almost grateful for the jab of cold metal, helping me focus on something that wasn't him. My jacket and waistcoat were next to be maneuvered off and I was left standing in my shirtsleeves, balaclava untouched. Another small consolation, though it offered little protection from the stare I felt on my naked legs and ass.

I suppressed a shiver as a gust of night air teased up past the edges of my shirt. Being exposed this way before him— it was vile. A pair of gloved fingers lingered on my collarbone before hooking my tie and pulling it loose.

"You say your cruel things, but I barely had to touch you last time before you were wanting me and struggling so hard not to show it." Tie in hand, he traced my breastbone downwards through the shirt fabric. "Since I'm a 'bad lay,' I guess you must be the desperate one. Can you be honest enough to admit you might be looking forward to this?"

"Yes. In the same way I've eagerly awaited Medic hurrying the fuck up and gouging the shrapnel out of my flesh— So I could get straight to forgetting such unpleasantries ever occurred."

"How thankless!" he scolded and turned his attention back to my tie, using it to bind my hands, only then relaxing his grip on the knife. I twisted at the knot, testing it, though I might well not have bothered. "Perhaps understanding your situation fully will make you more grateful," he said, giving me a shove.

Oh god— My stomach lurched as my center of gravity shifted precariously— in another second I would skid out the window headfirst. I panicked, wrenching at my bonds and jerking backwards with as much force as I could muster. The spy leaned forward and chuckled as I pressed my body desperately against his, earning an accidental knife slice on the small of my back. He gave me another push, this time holding my legs in place with his own. I clenched my teeth and pulled myself up again, rocking against his hips in the process.

"Stop screwing around! Just get this done with!" I growled, my heart beating furiously. Craning my neck, I could just see him slipping his right glove off to suck on his fingers. He motioned for me to spread my legs a bit more and without hesitation slid two of them into me straightaway.

"I was only waiting to hear you to say it," he said as I gaped. He had caught me off guard, but it was slick enough that it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. The spy worked his fingers around, stretching me, moving in and out in a torturously slow almost-rhythm. After a few unsettling seconds, he spat on his palm and gave himself several lazy strokes, spreading the moisture. He paused to regard my frame positioned beneath his— gloating, he had to be— then with no warning entered me as far as he could with one clean thrust—

Christ! I went tense at the shock, but forced my muscles to relax as he pushed in a little more. Dampness welled in my eyes and I blinked it away. "Hnn... Stand a bit higher, on your toes." I straightened, unsteady, wishing my arms were free to brace myself with. "Like that, perfect. Absolutely perfect." The spy sighed quietly against my back and then began to move.

His thrusts were careless, sometimes hitting me just right, sometimes not. It was enough to keep me utterly hard though, and I focused on the dim horizon, biting my lip and trying not to make my reaction so obvious. This was apparently being too distant for the other spy's taste, and he clutched my face to pant into my ear, "I know you're thinking of me, yes?"

"Actually... I was thinking of Sniper," I breathed back in a perverse fit, hoping for a reaction.

"Ahh, your infatuation. You probably knew he'd turn you down—" A pause to catch his breath. "—But the rejection must have stung nevertheless." I froze. How did he know this? "The nerve you had to tease about MY teammates."

"RED needs to keep you busier," I grunted, trying to hide my unease at being so thoroughly observed. He ignored this comment in favor of changing his angle slightly and I ground my teeth to stifle what would have been a humiliating cry. The sounds slipping through were bad enough. I prayed he wouldn't remember this later.

It was taking my utmost control not to lose myself in the flood of sensation: the searing strain of muscle as I trembled on the balls of my feet, the insistent, unremitting build of pleasure as the spy drove himself into me over and over, the gooseflesh where the chill air met the sweat on my body, the startlingly hot breath on my neck. It somehow felt good, all of it. The butterfly knife bounced against me softly, leaving thin lines where it broke skin.

"Please, Spy, don't be too upset. You have me, and I'm not a jealous lover. You have my permission to pretend he's fucking you now." Yes. I closed my eyes and thought of Sniper in earnest, but the illusion was too flimsy to maintain when all around me was the smell of cloth imbued with cigarette smoke and the now familiar scent of the spy's body, slick with perspiration. "Ohh, you are much too good..." How could I be expected to think of anyone else with his voice, heavy with exertion and lust, murmuring French with that accent into my ear? "Mmm, these visits with you keep me going. You're my favorite divertissement..."

He was getting close, pounding into me with no regard now. I fought with myself not to fuck it all and meet him violently blow for blow, concentrating instead on keeping my body still. Each thrust was pushing me forward a little farther and I tensed in fear as I began to slide out the window once more.

"SPY. SPYSPYSPY I'M FALLING, YOU FFF—" A hard slam levered me back to the inside of the sill, back onto that hard cock, and I moaned as the spy gasped and pumped against me, riding out his orgasm.

I bore the spy's weight in silence as I waited for him to recover. I needed to get away from him, away from the window as quickly as possible, and at my eventual movement he pulled out, exhaling long and slow like a sigh. There was the hint of a tremor in his breath.

"Untie me." The spy stared in my direction with unseeing eyes, then at last appeared to consider something.

"If you want, I could..." he trailed off, motioning at my erection.

"No. Just go."

"As you say." The knot behind my back loosened and I brought my hands around to rub where the tight bonds had pinched. I weighed going for my own knife after regaining some feeling, but rejected this line of thought. The disadvantage was too great. By now the spy had gotten his clothing in order, and his full attention was back on me. "Thank you for being so patient." I scowled as he handed me my fallen coat. "And thank you too for the unparalleled hospitality. Keep yourself well for me, BLU Spy." He inclined his head, a grating smile the last thing I saw before he turned and activated his cloak mid stride. Faint plumes of smoke indicated his direction down the hallway.

I held perfectly still for several heartbeats before sinking to the floor, not bothering to get dressed. Nerves and the lingering numbness in my wrists caused me to fumble clumsily at my cigarette case. Merciful Christ, he'd better have truly gone. Once, twice, on the third try the lighter worked and I wrung such a lungful of smoke from the cigarette that I nearly gagged. Quickly, I made a tight fist around myself and pumped hard. God, I needed some release.

Sniper... Yes, I could think of him now, his lips coming down around my cock, tongue swirling forceful wet circles around and around. His face was lean in that sexy way, his chin rough... It was an effective image and my breathing was ragged now, but I found my thoughts straying and then there was the spy with his ever-present knife and devious stare looking up at me instead. I remembered the first time he ambushed me, the burn of shame and outrage when he said he wouldn't kill me, and what a better idea he had... But I didn't want to die— it was better to be fucked by a rival spy than be dead, of course.

Yes, it was better this way. Much better to have him surprising me in the showers like the second time and running his hands over my body however he pleased, over the bullet scar on my thigh, the thin skin on my hipbones, up the tense muscles of my chest. Seeing me without my mask. Calling me a handsome thing.

I had never seen his entire face and didn't care to, but I knew his features well enough to picture him sucking me off eagerly now. I thumbed the head of my penis and shivered. He'd offered... He had offered something this time. The third time. Well, who knew precisely how he'd have gotten me off, but I would not have accepted regardless. At yet here I was, fucking hypocrite, jerking away, getting so turned on at the thought of what he could do, had done.

I could not allow myself to sink so far. I'd been doing a shit job of spying lately, but if I disguised myself as him, slit a few throats over at the RED base— screams stifled by leather gloves, eyes wide with betrayal— it would be truly satisfying. Ahhh...! He was not so much better than me, it was just the element of surprise, and if I were in their base, the tables could be turned. If he could be had, on my terms— His mouth being used instead of mine. There would be no shame in that, right? It would just be well deserved comeuppance, not some kind of sick lust for your tormentor. Mmmn, I could almost convince myself of that. And his lips... would feel... so... nice... !

* * *

My cigarette was used all the way down to the filter so I stamped it out. My suit I smoothed the best I could after donning it stiffly, and I shut that godforsaken window. The night air held no peace for me now. I followed the stairs back down to my bed, where I lay quiet but awake, willing my pulse to steady and soothing myself with thoughts of what satisfaction I would wring from the REDs tomorrow.


End file.
